Cruel to be King
by fillmoredawn
Summary: There was nothing left for Merlin to do. Reveal fic


**_A/N: Heeeeeeeeeeey y'all. Uh, here's a story coming your way. If you've read my other stuff, you know I'm a god awful updater. That being said, you have_** ** _nothing to worry about with this one, as it is intended as a one-shot standalone. Enjoy!_**

 ** _PLEASE review. Love reviews. Makes all the writing worthwhile. Your reward for reviewing is a great picture of my dog. See the end of the piece for more info. Unfortunately, guest reviews are non-eligible._**

 ** _I am a two time published novelist. Find my books, A Woman Scorned and Beast, through Less Than Three Publishers._**

There was nothing left for Merlin to do.

Gaius had been dead for almost nine years now. Gwen hadn't seen a glimpse of Camelot since her banishment eleven years past. Uther was long dead and gone, and Morgana's rebellion of sorcerers had vanished with her a half decade ago.

Now, all Merlin had was Arthur. Now, Arthur was completely alone.

Now, more than ever, Arthur was completely alone.

Merlin froze where he was, knees bent in a wide stance and arms in an attack position.

The Great Hall was completely silent. Merli allowed himself a quick glance at the knights, their mouths agape, hands resting on their sword hilts but waiting for an order from the King.

Merlin dropped his head and shifted his body into a 180 degree turn to face Arthur. His arms, raised high and strong in a defensive position, having used those same hands for spellcasting only moments ago, fell from a position of attack to surrender.

Merlin held his breath and waited, no concept of time except the pounding of his heart that he could feel down to his toes. After he could bare waiting no more, Merlin raised his head to face King Arthur.

Arthur's face was blank. Merlin tried to meet his eyes, but Arthur looked directly through him, as if asleep with open eyes, as if he had never seen Merlin dispel a flock of murderous crows in the middle of the Great Hall.

Merlin opened his mouth to speak, but his tongue had gone woefully dry. _Arthur,_ he tried to say, his lips moving silently and his throat full of dust. _Arthur, I'm sorry. Arthur, forgive me. Arthur, you're welcome for all these years. Arthur. Arthur. I'm sorry, Arthur. Say something, Arthur._

"Arthur."

It wasn't Merlin who spoke first, but Gwaine.

"Arthur," the knight said, the break in his voice echoing through the Great Hall. "Please- don't do something you'll regret."

At this, Arthur began to blink, understanding infecting his mind. His gaze swept across the hall, taking in the shocked faces of his servants, nobles, and knights, the sorceress crumpled unconscious in front of the entryway, the sheer black feathers on the tile, some still gliding down to the floor. His eyes came to rest, finally, on his manservant, standing before him with his arms raised high above his head in surrender.

Merlin didn't hear Arthur speak, only saw his lips move, unmistakeable ordering for Merlin's arrest.

Gwaine lunged towards the approaching set of guards with a strangled cry, throwing himself at them with closed fists. The other knights simply watched Gwaine's attack, unsure of what actions to take.

Arthur paid no attention to those events, his eyes never leaving Merlin's face, studying his features as if some aspect of Merlin would tell him why. _Why have you done this?_

Merlin had no answer for him. Instead, he closed his eyes and whispered, "I'm sorry," unsure if Arthur would ever hear him.

He should have known better than to doubt the ears of a champion hunter.

In an instant, Arthur was out of his throne and striding across the hall to Merlin. Merlin opened his eyes, having felt the movement of a king in the air. Even Gwaine, nose bloody from his scuffle with the two guards, halted his fighting to watch Arthur move.

The heels of Arthur's boots clicked steadily on the stone and stopped suddenly as he came to stand half an arm's length from Merlin.

"Arthur," Merlin said, and Arthur drew his fist back and punched Merlin squarely in the jaw.

Merlin crumpled backwards under the force of Arthur's hit, knees bending and his entire body sprawling limply across the floor like a child's doll.

But Arthur was not satisfied. He grabbed Merlin by the front of his shirt and pulled him up to stand, Merlin's feet scraping against the floor as he struggled to find his balance. No sooner had he regained his footing had Arthur struck the opposite side of his face with the other hand, a weaker punch from his non dominant side, but still with all the strength of a well trained warrior. Merlin staggered backwards and began to fall once again, but Arthur's right hand, holding a fistful of Merlin's shirt, kept him upright.

The others in the Great Hall watched all of this with no conception of what to do. Even the knights simply stared as their friend and leader took his fist to a man who had always been his undeclared best friend.

"Say it again," Arthur hissed, digging his fingers into Merlin's collarbone until the servant cried out in pain. Arthur's face was perfectly relaxed as he said, "go on."

"Ah- ah- I'm sorry," Merlin repeated while Arthur pressed harder into tender flesh. "I'm sorry," he shouted, just before Arthur brought an open palm to his ear, causing a painful ringing to thunder through Merlin's head.

"Again," Arthur ordered quietly. Merlin staggered but gave no sign of having heard him at all, and Arthur shouted, "AGAIN!"

"I'm sorry," Merlin whispered. Arthur drove a closed fist into the base of Merlin's nose, followed by a shout from Merlin and the sound of bone separating from cartilage.

"Again," Arthur demanded.

"I'm sorry," said Merlin through thick blood making its way out of Merlin's nose down his face. "Arthur-"

At this, Arthur grabbed Merlin by his wrist and twisted Merlin's arm behind his torso until Merlin began to scream.

"Never," Arthur growled, "Call me that again."

Merlin nodded desperately, tears pouring from his eyes. His shoulders shook as he began to sob, forcing more pain on his twisted arm.

"I'm sorry," Merlin whimpered. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry my lord, I'm so sorry."

"Sire," said Leon in a low voice from the knights' table. "There- There is little use in such cruelty, sire."

Arthur gave no response, glaring at Merlin with a sneer. "You're pathetic," he spat, and pushed Merlin forward. Unable to catch himself, Merlin stumbled and fell. Tears mixed with blood and bruises had already begun to develop in a symmetrical pattern on his face. Merlin tried to drag himself up once, fell down again, and gripped tight to his injured shoulder.

"The plague of magic has once again infected our lands," Arthur declared in a booming voice. "I foolishly allowed the kingdom to let down its guard, I allowed for this infestation with my own blindness. No more!" Arthur shouted. His voice echoed back to him, and for a moment Arthur heard his father in the echo.

A noise from the floor drew his attention.

"Please," Merlin whimpered. "I never meant to- Arth- Please."

Arthur looked down at the bloody mess of his manservant. He looked down at over two decades of friendship, of confessed fears, of eased pain. Those years were ruined for Arthur now, and with that realization all of his fars and anxieties came flooding back to him. A sorcerer lay before him now. Magic had taken Arthur's last friend from him.

"Let me explain it all to you," Merlin pleaded. "Please just let me explain."

He reached out one hand to Arthur as a beggar, seeing a world where Arthur took his hand and helped him to his feet, begrudgingly listened to Merlin's story, realized everything Merlin had done for him, and forgave.

Arthur looked down and saw the last and only man he trusted, now a complete traitor in every way imaginable.

"Please," Merlin whispered again, gently shaking his outstretched hand.

Arthur stepped forward and stomped his foot down on Merlin's hand with all the force he could muster.

Merlin instantly began to scream, more in shock than pain at first. His cries quickly morphed into broken wails as the pain set in. The fingers on his right hand were mangled grotesquely.

Arthur turned his back to Merlin and walked through the rows of knights, nobles, and servants.

"Take the sorcerer and throw him in the dungeon," Arthur told the two guards stationed at the door. "He receives no food until I say. And clean this mess up," he added, waving his arm to the crumpled sorceress who had tried to kill him minute previous.

"Meeting adjourned," Arthur announced loudly, and left the room.

Merlin watched him leave, tears pouring down his face. He would not stop crying for a long time. He would cry as the guards lifted him off the floor of the Great Hall as if he weighed nothing. He would cry while he watched Gwaine throw himself at the guards, only to be dragged off by Leon and Percival, with a sad but firm nod to Merlin from Elyan. He would cry when his foot caught on the way to the dungeon and the guards let him tumble down the stairs. He continued when the other prisoners were brought dinner, and when he asked for water and got a bucketful splashed into the cell in response, soaking him. He cried and cried and shivered and cried until a guard marched into the cell and gagged him with a dirty rag, and then he wept silently until he was finally dragged into sleep by his own pain and exhaustion, curled up in a mound of rotting hay.

Floors above, Arthur Pendragon lay in a four poster bed and stared up at the ceiling until the sun rose on the horizon.

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